But she couldn’t make sense of them.
He knew. He knew?
But how? Nobody knew she was here. So, he couldn’t have heard it at the village.
And that meant—oh God. That meant he’d always known.
Their chance meeting wasn’t a chance meeting at all.
Everything that had happened for the past two weeks was a lie. Not real.
But the way she loved him. That was real. And the heartbreak she was feeling now. That was painfully, awfully, nightmarishly real.
“You know who I am.”
It wasn’t a question. It was a statement.
And it was in a voice she didn’t recognise.
Inside, she felt as though her heart were splintering in two. Yet all those years of being groomed into the perfect princess had obviously paid off.
One didn’t show emotion. And right now, nothing about Harriet showed her inner turmoil. Her voice was calm and cold. The voice of a stranger, even to her own ears.
Jacob looked stricken. Pained by his confession.
But Harriet couldn’t even contemplate his feelings when she couldn’t get a hold of her own.
“Yes,” he said hoarsely.
She could only stare at him. For eons, she could only look into the face that she’d come to love so desperately, and wonder how he could have fooled her so. And why.
“I can explain,” he continued, a tinge of desperation to his tone.
He reached out a hand, and she flinched away.
She was barely standing upright. If he touched her now, she’d break into a thousand pieces.
“Explain then,” she bit out.
“Can we sit?”
She wanted to refuse, petulant though it was. But she felt as though her legs could give way any second and so wordlessly, she moved to one of the wooden chairs at the fire.
Her heart twisted as she thought of all the pleasant days she’d spent with him, sharing stories of childhood, sharing babbling conversations about everything and nothing, sharing silences filled with a comfort she’d come to hold so dear.
All of it was tainted now.
He sat across from her and gazed at her with cobalt eyes, his golden hair glinting in the firelight.
Usually, his handsomeness took her breath away. Now, it felt as though all her breath had been taken by his confession.
She didn’t know what to do. And so, she listened.
And the longer he spoke, the more her heart broke.
Not just because she’d fallen in love with this man, this man who had only been with her because Christopher had commanded it.
But her wonderful adventure, her quest for independence and anonymity was a farce. Christopher had known.
And Harriet should have known; there was no such thing as freedom. Not for a royal.
She was humiliated. And heart sore. And suddenly, desperately tired.
She wanted to go home where she could lick her wounds in peace. She didn’t even want to confront Christopher. She just wanted to lock herself away and cry.
Perhaps if Alex had come at Christopher’s request, she would return to England with him after all. Some distance would do her the world of good right now.
Distance from Christopher and his unyielding management of her life.
Distance from Jacob.
Harriet swallowed a lump in her throat.
“So, you’re some sort of secret agent, then? Working for my brother?”
It sounded impossible but then, when it came to Christopher and his iron control over his responsibilities, it didn’t really surprise her.
“Yes.”
She appreciated the simple reply. And the silence that followed it. She couldn’t listen to apologies or platitudes now.
“How? How could this be? Does my father even know about you?”
To Harriet’s amazement, Jacob shook his head.
“Prince Christopher is our only commander. We are his personal agents.”
She was bewildered and even momentarily distracted from her tempestuous emotions.
“But, where did he find you?” she asked.
His smile was miniscule and fleeting.
“I was destined for the army. Started off there, in fact, As the second son of the Count of Dresbonne, my father had high hopes for me.”
Harriet felt another jolt of shock. He was an aristocrat. Yet she never saw him at Court. She would have remembered.
“Unfortunately, I had a problem with authority, but my skills were such that they drew the prince’s attention, and I’ve worked for him ever since.”
A vague memory flashed briefly in her mind. A golden-haired boy soldier with a mischievous grin being dressed down by the captain.
“I saw you,” she blurted. “As I child. I saw you in uniform. In the courtyard.”
Jacob didn’t say anything. What did it matter, in any case? She hadn’t known him as a child. But she knew him now. And he knew her. More than anyone in her life.
Remembering the last two weeks, the things she’d told him about herself, the way he’d held her and kissed her—it made her sick with shame.
She’d even slept on the same bed as him. If he decided to tell tales about her, it would be all over the palace and then the rest of the city before she could blink.
And whereas thirty minutes ago she would have never thought him capable of doing something like that, Harriet realised that she didn’t know this man. Not at all.
Because he wasn’t who he said he was. And she wasn’t important to him. She was a job. A chore he’d had to do for his prince.
She dropped her gaze to her tightly clasped hands not sure what to think, what to feel. Embarrassment waring with anger. Hate waring with desperate sadness.
“Harriet.”
Just that one word, just her name, barely above a whisper, was enough for Harriet to know that she quite simply didn’t have the strength to talk any more. Not about this. Not about anything.
If he touched her, if he tried to comfort her, or apologise, or feign any interest in her or how she was feeling, she’d lose all control. She’d sob, and scream, and humiliate herself even more.
Gathering what was left of her tattered dignity, and drawing on years of being brought up to be the absolute crème de la crème of a Society lady, Harriet drew her eyes up to look into his.
She refused to see despondency in their blue depths. Refused to think that was sorrow or concern or—her foolish heart stuttered—or tenderness.
“I want to go home.”
He frowned slightly. Maybe at her tone. Maybe at the fact that she didn’t comment on his detailed explanation. Harriet didn’t much care.
And she didn’t want to give him the chance to ask.
“I realise that you won’t let me go alone, since my brother has presumably hired you to keep me safe and, if not well, at least alive.”
His answering grimace was enough to tell her that she was at least partly right.
“I shall be ready to leave within the hour.”
Harriet stood, pleased that she sounded and appeared poised when she felt anything but.
Wordlessly, she picked up her bags, placed them on the cot and began filling them.
Jacob stood, too, she noticed in her peripheral vision, and for the first time since Harriet had known him, he looked unsure, less than perfectly in control.
“Harriet. Sweetheart.”
The pain in her heart at his endearment said in such a pleading tone nearly cleaved her heart in two.
She wouldn’t survive a two-day journey back to the palace with him if she allowed him past her hastily constructed defences, even for a second.
Stiffening her shoulders and her resolve, Harriet turned to face him.
“I am the Crown Princess of Aldonia, Mr. Lauer,” she said, her voice icy and emotionless. “You will address me as Your Highness, or Princess, or not at all.”
Her words froze the air between them, and she could see that they’d hurt him. But
it didn’t affect her. She couldn’t let it.
She was a princess, and he was an agent for her brother.
Harriet had known that this little adventure of hers couldn’t last forever.
Foolishly, she’d begun to let herself imagine that it could.
Not hidden away, of course. But she didn’t need to hide away to have an adventure. Being with him forever would have been her greatest adventure. He would have been enough.
They stood and stared at each other for an age. Harriet refused to back down. Refused to break down. Refused to do anything other than give him her haughtiest look so he’d leave her alone.
“I’ll prepare the horse,” he finally said.
“You’re dismissed then,” she said coldly.
And she held onto her tears until he walked out and shut the door quietly behind him.
Chapter Eighteen
She hadn’t spoken a word.
Not one single word.
A couple of weeks ago, Jacob would have been thrilled with that. Now, it just broke his damned heart.
True to her word, Harriet—or Princess Harriet—he thought with a pang, had been packed up within an hour.
She’d come outside the cottage and if the situation hadn’t been so dire, he would have laughed at her carrying those damned bags again. Though she was able to manage them a lot better now, given they were practically empty, they still swamped either side of her.
It seemed a lifetime ago he’d watched her dragging them along the road from the village.
He’d been irritated by her tenacity then. Now, he loved it about her, just like he fiercely loved everything else about her.
He tried to take the bags, of course, but she’d ignored him, walking by with her chin in the air, regal as the princess that she was.
When she reached the tethered horse, she conceded to allowing his help, but instead of passing the bags to him like an adult, she dropped them on the ground.
Jacob gritted his teeth and didn’t comment. He had no idea where things stood between them and he wasn’t going to risk upsetting her further by commenting on her actions.
He’d hoped that she’d be full of questions; he wanted quite desperately for her to interrogate him. To rail against him. To scream. Hit him, even, if she wanted to.
But this quiet, subdued ice princess was killing him. It wasn’t the Harriet he knew. The Harriet he loved.
She was a stranger.
They’d reached the hidden gig in silence. He’d hitched up the horse and packed up their luggage without a word.
She allowed him to help her into the conveyance because she hadn’t had much choice, but she’d done it without uttering a sound, let alone a word.
And now, here they sat. Almost at the village, and she hadn’t even moved her head in his direction.
“I’d like to see about procuring a private coach for your journey home, Harr—Your Highness,” he said quietly. “I don’t want you travelling on the mail coach, if I can help it.”
“I don’t much care what you want,” she snapped back, and Jacob had to bite back a smile.
There she was.
And a sort of devilment awoke inside him. Angering her seemed dangerous and foolish, but it was better to bear the fire of her anger than deal with the iciness of her apathy.
“Well, it’s my job to see you home safely, and the safest way to do that is privately.”
She turned her head now, a renegade sable curl caught on her cheek, and Jacob itched to sweep it back. But he couldn’t be sure his hand would survive the action, so he kept it clenched in a fist instead.
“If you think,” she said through gritted teeth, “that I am getting into a coach alone with you for two days, you are very much mistaken.”
Her palpable anger almost made him nostalgic.
“Princess, be reasonable. You will be far more comfortable in a private coach than squashed into a public one. I’m only thinking of your best interests.”
That wasn’t entirely true. He was thinking of having two days alone with her to plead his case and beg for her forgiveness.
But short of kidnapping her and throwing her bodily into a carriage, he couldn’t force her to acquiesce.
They’d stopped outside the coaching inn, and Jacob jumped lightly down from the gig, rushing around to her side, lest she stubbornly try to disembark herself.
He held up his arms and she scowled at him before sighing and allowing him to lift her down.
They were in the middle of a public courtyard in broad daylight, yet Jacob couldn’t help but hold onto her even after her feet had touched the ground.
The feel of her pressed against him, the scent of her skin, and those heart-breaking eyes were too tempting, too precious to him.
Harriet pushed against his chest, but he refused to let her go until she glared up at him.
“Let me go,” she spat.
“I will,” he said softly. “But I have to tell you something first.”
“I don’t want to listen to anything you have to say,” she threw back defiantly.
“Harriet, I hurt you. I was dishonest, and you have suffered for it, and I hate that. I can’t change it, but I can try to explain. To make it up to you, somehow. If you’ll let me.”
Her expression hadn’t changed, but he saw a flash of something in the deep brown depths of her eyes. Some intense emotion.
But in an instant, it was gone, and she merely looked angry again.
Jacob dropped his hands but kept her trapped between his body and the gig behind her.
“What is there to explain?” she demanded. “It’s perfectly clear to me what happened. You were hired to take care of me like a big, overgrown nanny. And you lied about who you were.”
“So did you,” he interrupted gently. It was probably madness to argue with her, but he was desperate to get through this with her.
Harriet huffed out an impatient breath.
“My lie didn’t hurt you, Jacob.”
She spoke softly, and to his cravat, but her words cut him to the quick. Because she was right.
“I didn’t mean to hurt you, sweetheart. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”
She looked at him then, right into his soul.
“You made me think that you—that we—”
Her cheeks grew furiously red, and to Jacob’s horror, her eyes filled with tears.
She tried rapidly blinking them away, but one escaped and that lone drop falling down her smooth cheek ravaged him.
“Harriet.” He reached out once more, clasping her upper arms and bending so he could look fully into her eyes, so she could see the sincerity in the depths of his own. “Everything that happened between us these last two weeks. Everything I’ve said. Everything I’ve done—has been the absolute truth. This started out as assignment—you started out as an assignment. But that changed.”
She gazed at him, and he couldn’t read anything in her expression.
“Please,” he continued hoarsely. “You have to believe me. Harriet, I—”
“Your Highness?”
Jacob and Harriet both turned at the sound of a surprised, feminine voice.
He swore under his breath.
The last thing he needed right now was Harriet being recognised.
“Thank goodness, I found you.”
A tall, elegant lady hurried over.
“Oh, no.” Jacob turned back to see Harriet’s face fall. “Althea Furberg.”
“Lady Althea.”
Harriet stepped quickly away from Jacob, pulling her royal mask firmly into place.
The last thing she needed was Althea Furberg’s prying eyes noticing anything going on between her and Jacob.
How the lady had ended up here in Gant, Harriet had no idea. But she was here now, and much as Harriet disliked her, she might just provide a solution to Harriet’s current problem.
Namely, getting as far away from Jacob and the temptation to fall back under his spell as possible. As qui
ckly as possible.
“What has brought you to Gant?” She did her level best to keep her tone even, as though it wasn’t at all odd for her to be alone with a strange man, dressed in a servant’s cloak, and away from the palace.
“Why, I came to find you, Your Highness.”
Harriet frowned in confusion as Lady Althea stepped closer still, lowering her voice conspiratorially.
“His Royal Highness sent me to get you,” she whispered.
Harriet stared at the lady in amazement.
Just how many dratted minders had Christopher sent after her?
“H-he told me what happened.”
The patronising, faintly disapproving look in Lady Althea’s eyes made Harriet want to scratch them out.
“About how you had acted out when he was trying to keep you safe.”
Harriet stiffened her shoulders.
Lady Althea’s insubordination was grating enough, but the faux concern and sneery tone of voice were the outside of enough.
“My brother said those words to you, Lady Althea?” she asked, managing to look down her nose at the lady, even though she was a head shorter than the towering brunette.
Lady Althea had the grace to blush.
“Well,” she hesitated. “He was just so terribly worried, Highness. You are, after all, the only princess. And Christopher—” she paused to twitter gratingly. “I mean, His Royal Highness, was quite beside himself.”
Harriet didn’t quite know what to make of this little speech.
Althea reached out a hand and placed it on Harriet’s elbow as though they were close confidantes, ignoring Jacob completely.
“He wouldn’t have betrayed such a scandalous secret to anyone else, I’m sure, Your Highness. But he knows how much I would worry. I have come to think of you as a sister of sorts. And I know your brother wouldn’t have trusted anyone else to treat this situation with the delicacy it so clearly requires.”
The barb behind Lady Althea’s sycophantic words wasn’t lost on Harriet. Her behaviour was scandalous. Shameful. Needed delicate handling.
And if Christopher had taken Althea into his confidences like that, it could only mean that he was planning on making the lady a part of the royal family. He would never discuss private family matters with the lady otherwise.
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